Wife Type
by BrookeAnderson
Summary: Bellamy is in a relationship with Echo. Clarke doesn't like that. What happens when she takes advice from Murphy?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

"—and you know what?" Clarke bit out as tears fell down her face. She never thought she would openly cry in front of John Murphy but it was happening; she was officially breaking down in front of the person she hated to care for, if only platonically. "I killed the person—the only person—that will ever love me and for what? The grounders _left. _Honestly, we could have done it by ourselves and been just as successful but Finn is _dead. _I _killed _him. And somehow…" Her breathing and tears were impairing her speech but Murphy continued to nod his head to show that he was listening to her, "Somehow I got—" a hard breath pushed through her lips, almost like a scoff, "—this idea in my head that _Bellamy, _the king of the camp, had feelings for me beyond our partnership but once more—" She lifted her cup of moonshine in Murphy's direction, "I made the wrong fucking choice. But, cool because we have a treaty with the grounders and with that _treaty _Bellamy gets to fuck Echo all day long. I killed Finn, someone I loved, so the person I have feelings for can fuck another girl."

Murphy wasn't going to argue with her logic. It didn't find pleasure in arguing with Clarke when she was three sheets to the wind hammered drunk. It was by accident that he even stumbled upon her little fire, fifty feet away from the electric fence. It was like she wanted to be mauled by a panther or something. The misery in her eyes didn't exactly scream suicidal but he could be convinced of her deteriorating mental health. Honestly, he was appreciative that someone was even talking to him. Most people were still harvesting hard feelings for his sudden departure. "You can't be such an idealist all the time…" Murphy explained, not meaning to sound so calm, or even an ounce of comforting. "Finn knew you for a month and gallivanted around like a romance novel. That isn't reality, Clarke. That isn't how it goes—obviously. Bellamy, as well as most of these guys, don't want someone like you—"

"Well, thanks. That makes me feel _super._" Clarke rolled her eyes, looking more drunk than before as she tilted the empty bottle back and sighed heavily, realizing she'd taken every drop fifteen minutes ago when she started her rant. "Is it because I'm not a stick? Listen, back in ancient times I would have been a goddess. Honestly, the Greeks would have worshipped me. I could pass for Athena or something."

Murphy felt awkward, "You have a nice body, Clarke. That's not why they don't want you. They don't want someone like you because you're fucking scary. Not just because you can shoot, hunt, and pretty much kill people…but because you're _that _girl."

"What girl?"

He shrugged, "The wife type. The girl that guys want to commit to when their 27 and realizing they want a kid and family and a life with someone like you. Echo, look at me—" Clarke did. "—is the type of girl you fuck around with, have crazy stupid sex with before you realize none of that shit matters. Echo, as you know, wouldn't risk her life for him. She wouldn't stay with him when he's sick. She wouldn't be the wife, Clarke. You would be with wife. You are the one these idiots will ultimately commit to because you are _different. _Tough, scary, stubborn…but different."

"You ever going to tell anyone about the girl?" Clarke asked after a few minutes of turning his words over in her head. "You know…the one that's got you so smitten. Was she different? Like me?"

"Potential to be, yeah. I'm going to give you some advice and if you know what's good for you, you'll take it."

"Fine."

"Stop being _that girl _for a month. When he's sick, ignore him. Get your mom to take care of him. When he's hurt? Direct him towards Jackson. Don't let him get away with fucking Echo and going to you to be his wife-type. That's all you're doing right now."

Clarke snorted, "Oh, so stop being myself? Great. Great advice, Murphy."

"You can wife the shit out of anyone else you want. Miller? Go for it. Monty? Sure, might get hit by Harper but it's whatever. I wouldn't wife-up Jasper, though because Jasper has committed to the wife-type, A-K-A Maya." Clarke was hating herself because she was finding some truth in Murphy's advice. "But don't let yourself think Bellamy doesn't feel for you for a goddamn second. He's too stubborn, too prideful, and too damn stupid to confront his feelings for you. I'm sure the second you cut him off, he'll start crawling like a fucking baby."

The mental image made her laugh.

"Okay, so I cut him off of all my wifely duties and supposedly, my problems will be solved. That doesn't mean that the image of him screwing her is ever going to go away… I'm hurt. This hurts me." Clarke sighed, "So much so that it's like I want to give up on him."

"So, give up on him. Either way, stop being his girl." Murphy leaned back, "Stop being that girl and just be Clarke…fuck, just be you."

Clarke nodded, "I chickened out, you know? I went to tell him and I saw him with Echo and I chickened out. I should have said something sooner…and you know what? I did. I said, _it's worth the risk. _Am I fucking stupid?"

"Probably."

-x-

She picked at the skin on her fingers as she sat in the medical bay, a major headache pulsating through her skull. Her feet were propped up on the table while Jackson shuffled through patient logs. Clarke hummed to herself, "What do you think about the wife-type?" She asked out loud, turning her attention to her mother's assistant. It was later in the afternoon and most of her friends were off hunting in the forest, this including Monty much to her objections for him to stay within the fence. He was injury prone.

He raised an eyebrow, "Have you been dipping into the magazine archives?"

She shook her head, "Something a—" is Murphy a friend? "—friend said, you know? About there being a type of woman categorized as the wife type."

Jackson shrugged, "I suppose your friend is right. There's definitely a way to distinguish between those who want to casually hook-up from those who want to real thing. The whole relationship, love thing. Why the interests?"

"Curiosity?" Clarke offered, "Things are cooling down around here, people are pairing off. Maybe I want to know where I fit in it all."

"Only because I've known you all your life…" Jackson said cautiously, "I would say that you are the latter. Keep it that way, too or I'll have to inject someone with this grounder hallucinogen juice."

-x-

Clarke inhaled a deep breath as Bellamy shuffled into the medical area. _I can't believe I'm doing this…_"Jackson, can you take care of Bellamy? I have to uh-" She'd been wasting time all day, complaining because she was so bored with the lack of injuries. Jackson furrowed his eyebrows at her sudden displacement of duty. "—go somewhere."

"Your new friend?" Jackson asked, referring to their earlier conversation. "Alright, alright remember what I said, okay? I will not hesitate." Bellamy looked over her face, searching for her reasoning for leaving him injured with Jackson. It wasn't that Bellamy had a thing against him, he was just used to her being there for him in his time of need. Clarke slipped out of the medical bay and shrugged in the direction of Murphy, who smiled in appreciation.

Meanwhile, Bellamy felt completely _off _due to her sudden departure. "Is Clarke dating or something?" He tried to sound nonchalant but there were a few ounces of concern in his voice. Jackson was trying to wrap his ankle.

"You know, I don't know for sure but she was asking questions about being a wife today…if she is, it must be getting serious." Jackson smiled, "Maybe she'll be our first wedding. I imagine those two boys would put on quite the show." He paused thinking about Monty and Jasper's antics, "Stop kicking your feet like that."

"Clarke wouldn't marry anyone." Bellamy snorted because he knew Clarke. She wasn't interested in any type of romantic life, that's why it struck him odd that she might have a special friend.

"Oh, yeah….I forgot you've known her since when? Oh, yeah a few months where I've known her for the better part of a decade." Jackson rolled his eyes, "Just because Earth is a struggle and this life isn't ideal, doesn't mean that she's not a young woman with the fantasy of the perfect day and the perfect husband with the perfect life. Don't be a jackass, she's not only thinking about getting laid like you."

"That is not—"

Jackson frowned, "Because you and the grounder are so very compatible."

"You don't know me." Bellamy said sternly, "And you don't know Echo, either. She's…"

"She's…?"

"Nice, okay? She's nice."

Jackson started laughing, "Nice. Wow, that's commitment there, buddy. _Nice._"

"I don't like you."

-x-

**Feedback?**

**I'm looking for a few prompts, BTW. Review if you like it/review if you don't. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Clarke watched Bellamy peck Echo on the cheek; a sweet notion although the grounder seemed to be yearning for more. It was in the ring of dissatisfaction and overall disappointment surrounding her eyes. Clearly, she was searching for something purely physical without the slight, perfect touches a normal relationship not based on sex thrived off of so gloriously. Clarke tilted her head to the side and sighed heavily because he _wanted _to be with her and he was clearly _content _with her. He leaned forward and kissed her more tenderly—she had to look away from the sight.

_Don't say anything stupid when he comes over here…_

_Distant. Detached. _

"_Wife the shit" out of someone else—anyone else. _

Bellamy soon joined her, his thumb tracing the trigger on his gun as he started to rattle off information pertaining to the guard shifts. "Miller's been on a double shift…Monroe is trying to convince him to stop over working himself but with her recent injury—" His voice faded off into nothingness as she recalled her conversation with Murphy once more.

"I'm going to check on Miller." She said quite monotonously as she walked away from him, her eyes scanning the guard post for Nathan Miller. It wasn't to make Bellamy jealous. She really just needed to get away from Bellamy before the topic of his girlfriend was brought up or before he could suffocate her with his scent. It was _so hard _for her to not feel like her heart was being clenched in a menacing grasp. He loved her, she knew it. It just wasn't romantic love. It would never be romantic love. Why continue to treat him as _hers _when it would never work out? Miller was perfectly nice—perfectly available, too.

She knew love wasn't instant—people don't meet and immediately fall in love. It grows. She could grow to love someone like Miller. She had to let go of her frivolous obsession with Bellamy Blake before her heart shattered. Maybe Miller could make her smile…"Nathan—Nate—Miller—Milly…Mill?" Her attempts to make him smile were rewarded with a grin that could stop a normal girl's heart—too bad she wasn't normal. He was clearly half-asleep leaning against the wooden post just outside of the electric fence.

He snorted after a moment and looked down at his boots, returning his cute little smile back to her. "What can I do you for, Clarke…Clarkey…Clarke-a-potamus?" She cringed at the last nickname but started to smile after a few seconds because it was amusing, if anything. Nathan shook his head and waited for her to respond.

"Did you eat dinner?" She asked on a more serious note, honestly concerned with his health if Bellamy said that he was overworking himself. Miller was trying to relentlessly prove himself but at what cost? She couldn't have one of her best men—her most loyal men—fainting on the job. He needed proper rest, proper nutrition, and more importantly a sense of good health.

He shrugged, "Not yet, why?"

Clarke sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "You really should eat. If your sugar gets low, you could crash and—" He raised a hand to cut her off, softly chuckling.

"Don't worry, I'll eat."

Clarke arched an eyebrow, "You promise?"

"I promise, Doc." He nodded seriously.

She smiled, "Doc?"

"Would you prefer Clarke-a-potamus?" He asked with an amused look in his eyes.

She shook her head, widely smiling at this point. "Not even a little bit." _Make a move, Clarke. Just do it. _"So, since I don't really trust you to e_at a proper dinner…" _She swallowed hard, "You should get dinner with me."

"With you?"

"Yeah, with me."

-X-

"Alright…" Clarke nearly whispered as she approached Murphy. He was sitting alone around the fire after dinner—a good dinner, really, if she had to rate it. Miller was the quiet type but the conversation they did have was well-constructed and slightly revealing. Comfortable, even. The sky was a shadow blue color, darkening by the minute. The night air smelt like a fading flame, encouraged by the light scent of boar's meat and roasted nuts. As she moved closer, she could distinguish the smell of moonshine, in which appeared to be in copious amounts, from the more pleasant side of camp. Murphy sported a few scrapes across his face and she reached to touch him as a mere evaluation but he stopped her with a rough swat. Clarke cleared her throat, thinking he needed something to talk about. "I've decided to completely forget about Bellamy." _I'm taking your advice… smile or something… _

It was like she forgot Murphy could be a violent, disturbing, ridiculously vulgar ass. She thought they were _closer _than before but it seemed she was mistaken. He tore into her with his blurry, gravelly voice. He brought the cup to his lip and swallowed before he turned his voice. They were inches apart due to her previous medical stance. "Good luck, Clarke…" He snorted, not really wishing her any type of luck at all. She tried not to flinch because of the cruelty running through his tone. "You're fucked and everyone knows it."

"What? N-No, I'm not." Clarke stammered out of frustration, feeling the need to defend herself she continued on. "I just had a semi-date with Nathan Miller. It went well. I can get over these feelings…they're already fleeting." She forced a smile to prove him wrong but it was the wrong move. Something darkened in his eyes—the evil in him, the evil they all carried within them.

He shook his head, throwing the cup to the ground as he turned his head away from her. He seemed to focus on something else as he ridiculed her, "Dumb bitch."

"Excuse me?" She was not going to let him talk to her like that.

"They aren't fleeting. They aren't going anywhere. You're fucked because you will always want to be with him." He reached up and grabbed her chin with his fingertips, pressing so hard that she knew there would be impressions from his grip. Could he see the fear in her eyes? If he did, he ignored it by jerking her head in the direction of Bellamy and Echo practically jumping each other. His hands running up her hips, hers gripping his navy shirt as if her life depended on it. "How does that make you feel?"

"Stop." She pleaded, the familiar sting in her eyes forming almost immediately. She couldn't watch him with her. She couldn't keep doing _this. _And Murphy was a dick for making her watch.

"C'mon, Clarke—doesn't it hurt? Seeing him with her…doesn't it rip you up inside?" Murphy taunted her, releasing her face with a slight push. Her eyes found the ground, the details blurring as she sniffled. She could tell that he was smiling as if he'd won the battle.

"Stop!" Clarke screamed at him, catching him off guard. Her cheeks turned a bright red because she was sure people were looking at them. She lowered her voice and leaned forward, her teeth gritted in anger as her eyes scanned him. It was a penetrating look. "Just because you _lost her _doesn't mean you can be a drunk jackass to me… I'm _trying _to move on! You should, too…before your life really does have no worth."

He sneered, "Fuck you."

"No, fuck you John!" She stood up, brushing off her pants before she met the eyes of their peers. She wiped her tears away, not wanting to look completely weak in front of them. There were fingerprints on her face and it was obvious as she made her way from the flame. She turned around to look at him, "And eat something Murphy to soak up the alcohol. I don't need you to poison yourself."

She rubbed her face with her palm as she tried to make the friction take away the pain. _Control yourself. Control yourself. _"Clarke?"

_I don't need this._

"Yeah?" She replied to Bellamy's worried tone, not removing her hand from her face as she reached the medical bay. She needed a distraction—something _worth something _other than his platonic concern. He stepped close to her, too close for comfort. He reached his hand out to remove hers from her face and she held her breath.

"You and Murphy aren't…"

"God no." Clarke snorted but she remembered that she couldn't do it—she couldn't even be his friend. It hurt too much. Laughing, bonding—the fact that he hadn't released her hand yet. She would never forget the sensation. "It was a disagreement between semi-friends…no big deal, Murphy's an ass."

"You were crying."

"I was upset."

"He shouldn't make you cry—"

She shrugged, "It's really none of your business, Bellamy. I have work to do."

"It's dark out."

"Oh, and that means people stop hurting themselves, right? Wrong, jackass." She turned on her heel and walked into the med bay with a frown on her face. Jackson raised an eyebrow at her but she ignored him. Bellamy followed her, clearly not getting the point. How could she forget the image of him groping Echo? "What do you want from me?" She asked a little too loud, with far too much emotion.

He clenched his jaw, unaware of what to say. "Obviously, I should be anywhere but here." Jackson whistled as he eased by the two. "Like anywhere but here…anywhere but here."

"No, it's fine. Bellamy's leaving."

"No, I'm not because clearly you have a problem with _me…_what the hell did I do to you?"

Jackson was in an awkward position, observing their dynamic. He squinted his eyes at her, trying to make her say something that carried an ounce of meaning but she shook her head. _A wife explains herself…not me. That's not me anymore. _"It's not always about you, Bellamy." Her voice was a lot softer than she needed it to be.

He stepped forward, "Clarke…just talk to me. Did I say something? Did I do something to make you feel so hostile?"

"No, no just drop it."

"I can't."

"But you can." Clarke shook her head in the affirmative, "And you will. Leave it alone, leave _me alone._"

"Holy shit." Jackson said under his breath as he stared wide eyed at them. She turned her entire body away from Bellamy and started organizing the already organized medical supplies. Bellamy looked at Jackson questioningly. He hung around until he realized that Clarke wasn't going to talk to him anymore. It pissed him off, but more than anything he was hurt—and confused. "You're in love with him." Jackson said pointedly, "And he's with another woman."

Clarke snorted, "I wouldn't like them unless they were unavailable. Seems off-the-market is my type. Happened with Finn, happening with Bellamy. I just don't know how to stay away from what's not mine."

"He's yours." Jackson was so sure of his words that he repeated them. "You two are just stubborn and idiotic, that's all."

"No…we're just not going to work out. No point in trying."

_**Reviews make me happy—thanks for the support! I know this chapter was rough but I promise, it'll get better. **_


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